A Phone Call
by Taylor Hayes
Summary: Gabs hears about what happened to Jo and Ellen and calls Dean. Oneshot, based in my Winchester, Smith & Wesson 'verse. Funny stories involving the Harvelle women as they remember their friends.


A PHONE CALL

a/n Just watched the episode where Jo and Ellen get blown up again and am trying to process. And then it came to my mind that this would be another instance where Gabs would call Dean and want to know what was happening, along with trying to help somehow. Timeline wise, this is before "Sharing the Burden" and after "Winchester, Smith & Wesson".

"Is it true?"

Dean blinked a few times, held the phone away from his ear, then pulled it close again. "Who is this?"

"Gabs. Gabrielle Wesson."

Dean immediately remembered the days after the raid on the vamp nest where he tried to comfort the tall , gorgeous hunter, while she was delirious and dying from the wound Castiel had eventually managed to heal.

"Gabs. God, it's good to hear from you. How are you?"

"Winchester," her voice was stern, but rough, as though she were holding back tears. "Are Ellen and Jo dead?"

Dean closed his eyes and leaned back on his bed. He wished as hard as he could that he didn't have to tell her. "Yeah. Hellhounds got Jo. And then she and Ellen took them out with a ton of bombs."

"And the bombs killed them?"

"Yeah." He pushed the heel of his hand into his eye, fighting off the memories.

There was silence, and then the quiet words, "At least they went together. They'd both deny it, but that was always what they wanted. They knew how hard it was to survive on your own when you loose someone you love."

Dean needed to hear something happy, something about better times. In desperation, he asked, "How long did you know them?"

The broken laugh brought a sad smile to his lips. "Since Jo was about 16. Aunt Kim said me and Lizzy were "finally ready to meet the big names". I guess she figured Bobby didn't count, or something.

"Ellen was really nice, but I could tell she wasn't happy to meet us."

"Why?"

"Lizzy was Jo's age, and I was only three years older. All her life, Jo had wanted to be a hunter. And here we were, same age and everything, out hunting and killing monsters. Every time we stopped by, Jo would beg us to tell her about the hunts we'd been on.

"We told her the whole truth, of course. The good and the bad. She saw the scars and the wounds, heard about the people we couldn't save. None of that stopped her wanting to hunt."

There was a chuckle and a sigh, as she remembered better times. "There was this one time. We'd just finished up a werewolf case, and Lizzy was in a crazy mood, and somehow she and Jo convinced me to drive us all to a dive the next town over. And, of course, being as she could make an alternative living as a forger, Lizzy had a fake i.d. for her, and another for Jo. I was barely 21, so I was legal. But those two sure as hell weren't.

"Didn't stop them from ordering fruity, girly drinks, like Pina Coladas and Sex-on-the-Beach and Frozen Margaritas. Before I knew what had happened, they were up on the bar, singing karaoke. I think it was "Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy", or "Killer Queen"... Either way, it was a Queen song. And they were up there, completely drunk, singing and grinding and giggling, and Ellen shows up."

"Oh god," Dean muttered, terrified just by the thought of having the elder Harvelle woman see that.

"Yeah. Apparently, the owner of the place knew Ellen, and knew that Jo was her baby girl. And he figured, no big deal, until the whole karaoke-on-top-of-the-bar thing. Especially with the way the men were crowding around, like they were just praying for the girls to trip and fall into their waiting arms.

"And so Ellen storms in, kicks one guy in the jewels, breaks another one's nose, pulls out a shotgun and orders Jo and Lizzy out of the bar. The girls are too wasted to know better, but that angry voice of Ellen's always could cut through anything and everything, including a full-on state of trashed.

"Meanwhile, I'm staying in the back of the place, spine pressed up against a wall, praying that Ellen won't think about me, or look around. I mean, technically, I'm the only adult out of the three of us. I would be the one she would ultimately blame for them going to the bar, getting drunk and making total spectacles of themselves. I was barely 21! I didn't want to die when I just became legal!"

"So what happened?"

"It was _Ellen_. What the hell do you think happened?"

"She found you."

"She didn't even look, she just yelled my name over her shoulder as she was walking out the door and told me to get my ass outside, or she'd get the Shelby impounded, destroyed and sold for scrap metal."

"_Jeez_, that woman could be nasty."

"Hell yeah. I groaned, and a guy nearby asked if I was Gabrielle. When I said I was, he told me he'd pray for me.

"Best sentiment I ever heard."

"And then?"

"Yard work, cleaning the bar, the bathrooms, the old water pump, the garage, her truck, Ash's room-"

"Seriously?"

"Yup. That was possibly the most disgusting thing I've ever done. And I've ripped apart and dismembered a Chupacabra with a whisk and a fish knife."

"You are one crazy ass chick."

"Shut up, Winchester. There were entire colonies of bugs, living in mold forests that had grown from food he'd probably dropped on the floor sometime in the last century. And that man's porn collection... Extensive and versatile are understatements. Odd stains that I wanted a Hazmat suit to even come near, clothes that were on their way to figuring out how to walk and talk on their own. And bits and pieces of computers scattered _everywhere_. And anytime we even _thought_ about touching those last ones, Ash was back in the room, screaming that we'd screw up everything.

"By the end of that week, I was ready to shoot myself, if it meant getting out of the work. I almost _did_ shoot Ash, second day in."

"Why?"

"I'd just boxed up all his gross porn, friggin' alphabetized it, just like he'd asked, and got it put away. I leave for two minutes to get a drink, and when I come back, the stuff's all over the room again.

"He took one look at me, and ran.

"Lucky for him, Ellen had guessed it would be coming and unloaded my Ruger that morning. Otherwise, he would be really, most sincerely dead."

"Holy crap, woman. That's impressive, and a little scary."

"Yeah. I tried my very hardest to never piss off Ellen again. With Lizzy glued to me at the hip, and Jo thinking Lizzy was the best thing since sliced bread, I didn't have a chance, of course. But I kept trying."

"I know what you mean," Dean grinned. "There was this one case. Turned out it was H.H. Holmes haunting this apartment and taking blonde gals. Jo put together all the info and Ellen wouldn't let her go hunting. She gave the case to Sammy and me. And when we get there, guess who's already talking with the building supervisor about renting an apartment?"

"Jo? Jeez, what'd Ellen do?"

"Called, asked if Jo was there, warned me not to lie."

"But you did, didn't you," Gabs chuckled.

He shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a sucker for a pretty blonde."

They both fell silent at that. As the quiet expanded, getting worse and heavier every second, Gabrielle finally asked, "Then what happened?"

"The evil son of a bitch took Jo."

Gabs sounded stunned. "How the hell are you still _alive?_ If it'd been me, Ellen would have skinned me and stuck my head on a stake outside the Roadhouse."

"It was close," he agreed, smiling at the memory. "She flew out and we had to drive all the way back, all four of us, in the Impala. Ellen didn't let us listen to any music the entire way. Just made us all sit there, contemplating our sins, or whatever."

"Ha ha, that sounds like Ellen."

"Yeah. She scared the holy hell outta me."

"Is that why you never made a move on Jo?"

Dean moved the phone away from his ear and held his arm across his face for a moment, just attempting to breathe.

"Winchester?"

"Yeah. Sorry. Yeah, that was one of the reasons. Plus, it always seemed to be the wrong time, or the wrong place. Y'know?"

"Yeah, I do." There was a pause, then another heavy breath. "I hadn't talked to Jo for three years before the memorial service for everyone killed at the Roadhouse. And then, we really didn't communicate much after that. It was always Ellen calling me about jobs, and Jo calling Lizzy for guy advice. Where she got the idea that Lizzy had any clue how to keep a guy after you caught him, I have no idea. But Lizzy was Jo's sage master."

"Those two would have been a hell of a handful."

"You have no idea." After a pause, Gabs' voice was back, quiet and choked. "Thanks, Dean."

"What?"

"For telling me. For talking about them with me."

He shook his head, eyes closed as he fought off tears. "I was gonna say the same thing."

"Well then, I'm glad I called."

"Me too."

"Take care of yourself, Winchester."

"Same to you, Gabs."

"Bye."

He hung up without saying goodbye.

Dean really hated goodbyes.

fin.


End file.
